Finally
by ImmortalAriadneGoddess
Summary: "Finally," Stiles says breathlessly, a dull flush starting to creep up on his pale skin. And when Derek arches one of his eyebrows at Stiles, he adds, "No seriously, dude. Didn't you know that maintaining eye contact for more than six seconds indicates a desire for sex or murder, I'm just glad it was-"


Derek only goes to Lydia Martin's party because Laura's pushing him to do so since caught him looking over at the boy two tables over from theirs in the library whenever she comes over to visit.

"_I swear to god_, Derek," she grumbles as she finds catches him looking at the boy for what may be the third time today. "Christ, this is getting pathetic even for you, _you're pining."_

Derek can feel the blood rushing to the tip of his ears already. "Shut up," he mumbles under his breath to himself even though he knows it's loud enough for her to hear. Her face looks smooth and cool under the library's almost dim but bright lights.

"What's his name?" Laura asks, sharpening her bright red nails nonchalantly, her face looking smooth and cool under the library's partially dim lights.

Derek glares at her. "His name is none of your business."

"Oh, little brother, but it is," Laura sweetly smirks at him, "unless you want Mom to find out about Jimmy Carter and the various explosives that happened to set off on the Toyota."

"You wouldn't dare," Derek hisses between his teeth.

Laura coolly meets his eyes. "Try me."

"His name is Stiles," Derek grunts out, feeling a tad like a creeper because he had stayed late one night and may have or may have not sneaked a peek at one of his papers while he was gone to buy snacks from the vending machine.

Laura takes a moment to digest this information and her facial façade never wavers for a second and then she smiles. It's stretched a little too wide and happy to be real and it's _innocent. _ That's the final straw for Derek because he's officially shitting his pants scared because Laura only smiles that way when she's about to make his life a whole lot more miserable.

Cindy Miller in 8th grade still proves to be a particular painful reminder for him to talk about even to this day.

"He's not even here," he comments because whenever Stiles is in the room he gets a little shiver at the base of his spine and his heart drops into his stomach like he's on a fucking rollercoaster ride.

So of course that's when he gets this creepy sense that someone is watching him. A few seconds later, Derek catches familiar ratty black high-tops making their merry way make their way past him.

Derek can't help it by this point and his eyes trail from the start of faded black shoes to a tight jean-clad ass.

His pen drops from his slightly sweaty hand and catches Laura's grin from the corner of his eye and before he knows it she's strolled her way to Stiles, scored an invitation, and managed to meet Stiles' brown eyes all under ten minutes.

And now Derek is leaning against the wall, holding a red plastic cup, fidgeting in his clothes which consist of a gray V-neck, his leather jacket, and faded, tight jeans that 'did wonders for his ass' according to his older sister.

His mood instantly lifts up when he catches sight of Stiles making his way through the throng of the teenage, gyrating crowd. Stiles is wearing skin-tight jeans that hug his lithe body and a plaid red shirt that accentuates his strong but wiry shoulders. There's a dark beanie on his disheveled head of hair and these black hipster glasses that gives him the urge t to shoot his come on Stiles', slack post-orgasmic face. _Fuck, _he can already feel himself getting hard from the thought and okay, time to focus on other things. This is his chance. This is his chance to introduce himself to Stiles' and prays to God he doesn't mess it up, while trying not to come off as a total creeper.

He eagerly abandons his cup in search of Stiles through the heavy crowd of people and when he's finally close enough Stiles is already talking to a gorgeous looking red-head. He's bobbing his head up and down a he talks and _beams _at her like she's the sun. The realization hits him like a punch in the gut because Stiles is _gorgeous_, okay? It shouldn't be such a surprise that he's already taken.

This just really isn't his day is it?

Feeling like something sour and crass has touched his tongue, Derek tries to make his way back to the nearest door to leave only to crash into someone head on. Derek's balance slips and he hangs onto the person's arm with a hard grip and pulling them both upright.

His eyes meet with a pair of aware, whiskey warm eyes.

"Please don't kill me!" Stiles squeaks, trying to get arm out of Derek's tight hold. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was talking to Lydia before Jackson decided to throw me around like a bag of potatoes and please don't kill me, for the love of all that's holy! I'm still a virgin and way too young to be considered sacrifice, I still haven't seen you naked yet because you look like you could bench-press my weight twice. Not that I fantasize you about naked or stare at you at the library, nope! That is completely ridiculous because The Stiles has better things to do."

Derek seriously reconsiders his taste in guys for at least a minute and then shakes his head, releasing his grip from his arm. "Please never refer to yourself in the third person again."

"Thank god," Stiles breathes, lifting up his arms making his shirt lift up high enough to show his happy trail. "Thought it was touch and go there for a while."

Derek stares. "You stare at me at the library."

"And you glare at me." Stiles shoots back.

He frowns. "I do not."

"Yes you do, sour face! All the time, you, you," Stiles babbles, making wild gestures with his hands as he talks. "You glared at me last week when I dropped pencil case a table over and your eyebrows looked like they were trying to land a plane and doing this ridiculous mating dance . . ."

"I was actually looking at your ass," he admits sheepishly.

Stiles gapes at him like 'what the fuck' and Derek grins and leans in to kiss him. At first, Stiles is stone-still but before Derek can pull back and die alone in a cave, Stiles pulls him even closer his slim fingers slightly scratching at his scalp. Their kissing is sloppy at first, a mix of teeth clacking and eagerness. Stiles ends up licking Derek's bottom lip and they don't stop making out until Stiles' glasses are foggy with condensation.

When Stiles finally pulls back for air, his mouth is sinfully swollen and a vibrant shade of red. "Finally," Stiles says breathlessly, a dull flush starting to creep up on his pale skin. And when Derek arches one of his eyebrows at Stiles, he adds, "No seriously, dude. Didn't you know that maintaining eye contact for more than six seconds indicates a desire for sex or murder, I'm just glad it was-"

Derek grabs Stiles by the collar of his ridiculous shirt to kiss him again.

FIN


End file.
